


Can You Take Me Higher

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 13:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: Wade knows how bad Nate hurts a lot of the time, and offers a bandaid solution.Really, he just wants to shotgun Nathan.





	Can You Take Me Higher

**Author's Note:**

> All the brilliant lines from Nate are thanks to Iintangible.

The brownies come out of the oven smelling like heaven, if a little lumpy looking. They’d look a lot worse if Wade had been left alone to cook them, but Nate’s ‘hey let’s actually follow the directions on the box’ method seemed to reduce the burning and scorching, which probably enhanced the taste.

Wade could get behind that, even if it was boring.

“You know it says to wait five minutes before you –”

He pretends not to have heard, slicing into the pan and dividing the whole thing up into nice squares. When he starts trying to plate them, steaming chunks fall off the pieces, making a mess on the counter he’ll just have to eat later.

All in all, it’s a nice presentation, though Wade could have done with some whipped cream. When Nate reaches out for one, Wade slaps his hand away.

“Mamma needs the whole tray or it’s not gonna touch me,” he says in response to the irritable question that darkens Nate’s features. “Go get the bong, I’ll set you up. Don’t touch my crumbs, either! It’s all mine!”

“Still don’t see how this is supposed to help anything,” Nate grumbles, licking a finger and obstinately sweeping up a large fallen crumb of pot-brownie. “You already act like a fucking idiot.”

“Just get the bong, Priscilla.”

The television is set to the news station that Nate gets the least angry watching, but Wade, already munching his first (hot, too hot to taste) brownie, saunters around the little half wall separating the kitchenette from the living room, and turns it over to his Pandora station.

God bless Smart TVs.

He’s on his second brownie and jamming to some soft spoken hippy singing about how good it feels to be alone with his girl. The hook is a catchy series of ‘whoa-oh-oh’s and Wade can appreciate that. He’s already starting to feel tingly, which is good, considering how concentrated that oil in the brownies was.

When Nate appears from the bedroom with the bong in hand, Wade rewards him with a kiss that earns him a half-hearted shove towards the kitchen. It doesn’t take him much time at all to clean out the ash from the last time he’d smoked, and repack the bowl. Fresh water in the base and some ice in the smoke chamber and it’s ready for his old padawan.

“Put your lips on the top and – no, no,” he finds himself almost breathless with giggles as Nate wraps his lips around the mouthpiece. “You’ve gotta be fucking with me now. No, we’re not deep throating it, baby. Like this.” He takes the bong back and demonstrates, then passes it back, trying and failing not to laugh at the scowling blush on Nate’s face. “Now light the bowl and take a deep breath, but not too deep – don’t wanna drown in bong water, right? Ew.”

Five minutes later they’re comfortable entangled on the couch, Nate over his very first choking fit to be caused by ripping on a bong and Wade over his subsequent giggle fit.

“If you pass that over I can show you a neat trick.”

Nate grunts a little noise and holds the bong away from Wade. “Nope. It’s mine.”

Wade, having shoveled all but two of the brownies down his throat already, looks aghast and delighted in equal measure, scoffing and then laughing, climbing into Nate’s lap to try reaching for the bong. It’s held neatly out of his reach. “Oh my god don’t be a brat about it!”

“You didn’t share, why should I?”

“Valid bargaining, but you’re never gonna finish that bowl on your own.”

“I will throw it out the window before I share with you.”

Wade cracks up, maybe at the venomous sincerity in Nate’s tone, or maybe at the thought of a bong just flying at dangerous velocity out their window. “C’mon, lemme shotgun you.”

Nate makes a face. “No.”

“IT’S ROMANTIC, NATE.”

A rumbling growl and roll of the eyes. “What the fuck even is it?”

Wade slips off Nate’s lap, bouncing in place. “It’s a way of getting high where, like, I’d take a rip off the bong, hold it, and then pass the smoke to you, mouth to mouth, so we’re getting high on the same breath. Very romantique, non?”

"No,” Nate says flatly. “That doesn't make any god damn sense at all."

Furrowing his brow, Wade nods vigorously. “Uh huh it does, I promise.”

"You're inhaling the smoke. That means your lungs are filtering it. You don't exhale the same shit you inhale. Do they not have schools in this century?"

Slipping into giggles now, trying so hard to hold it together, Wade ducks his head for a moment, and then looks slantwise at his lover. "Are you fucking overthinking a smoke trick? It's, it's supposed to be sexy, Nate."

Nate, for his part, looks almost sincerely pissed off. "Why is that sexy? You dumb fuck, you don't know how lungs work and I'm supposed to think that's hot?"

And that’s it, that’s the final straw for Wade; he loses himself in a harsh caw of laughter for a moment, before licking his lips and trying to speak in his own defense with a weak and giggle-laced, "It's super sexy, I swehaahaear to god."

"It's stupid. You're stupid. Please just. Tell me that you didn't think that's how smoking worked. Lie to me if you need to."

Wade, doubled over and slipping off the couch, shakes his head, laughing even harder now. “I’ve totally thoughahahat it was legiheheheht for years.”

"Oh my god." Nate puts his head in his hands, mildly horrified. Wade is impressed with his ability to both hold on to a bong and bury his face in his hands. "No. Why would - no. You fucking imbecile, whoever told you that was just trying to kiss you. What do you think lungs do?"

“Make the air so I can talk?” Wade suggests brightly.

“Christ, I hate you.”

“You love me, you dried up old bastard.”

Huffing a sigh, Nate shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. I can tell you you're wrong all day and you don't care. Jesus Christ. Why do I want to fuck you?"

"Cuz I do that thing with my tongue that makes you crazy." Wade laughs, looking up at Nate. "Hooked you in, now you're addicted."

"It is pretty good." Nate admits before he seems to think better of it, walking back with, "Don't get used to me saying that. You get one."

Wade laughs, sitting up fully. "Smoke up, babe, we'll see how many I get."

"One. You got it. It happened already." Nate takes a rip from the bong, before coughing, choking a little, and wheezing a final, "Cherish it, Wade."

"Ohh, we'll see." He picks up one of the last brownies, passes it tauntingly close to Nate's face before chomping down on it "Anyway, you tell me I look good all the time."

“I’m surprised that you, of all people, don’t know what jokes are.”

“And I’m not even gonna dignify that. You eyefuck me all day long and expect me to buy that you’re suddenly funny?”

“I make you laugh just fine.”

A scoff. “Out of pity, yeah.”

“Not picky,” Nate says flatly. “I take what I can get.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Wade says sincerely. "Again, you eyefuck me knowing full well that I look like locally grown produce."

Nate shakes his head slowly. “You’re trying to bait me into complimenting you. Not gonna work.”

“Oh, but I was so close. Smoke up, dear, smoke up.”

"Don't gotta remind me." He blinks slowly, realizing that this is not true and that he’d forgotten he was holding the water bong. "Huh."

“Art thou felling it now, Mr. Krabs?”

Looking momentarily annoyed, Nate relaxes minutely into the couch. "I never know what the fuck you're saying. I do feel it, though. It's. Hard to describe."

Wade nods sagely. "One day we'll go full Clockwork Orange and get some relevant pop culture references drilled into you." He chuckles. "You feel heavy? Kinda soupy?"

"Yeah. It's hard to concentrate. Kinda feels like my, uh. Like my head's a pillow." He shakes his head, hating the way that came out. "I'm starting to sound like you."

Grinning eagerly, Wade leans against the soldier. “How’s the pain levels?”

“Better,” Nate acquiesces after a moment’s thought. “Doesn’t hurt the way it usually does. Less’ve an ache.”

"I always think of it as being to the left of me. Still there, but not important, off to the side, you know?"

And Nate, he does know. “Hmm. Yeah.”

"Soooo," Wade rests his head on Nate's shoulder, looking up at him and batting his eyelids. "You're high with your favourite avocado. What's next on your to do list?"

Nate doesn’t answer, not in any verbal way, but after a few seconds, presumably needed to work out the logistics of the angle and decide if he really wanted to or not, he’s kissing Wade. It’s crude and clumsy and lazy, increasingly messy as tongues get involved, but perfect.

The promise of a better angle for kisses lures Wade to sit up, clenching his fingers into Nate’s shirt and dragging him close. It puts a kink in both their backs, but it’s still worth it. Nate watches him as they’re kissing, intent to the point where Wade has to close those wide, white eyes against him, feeling a little more intimate in the exchange than he’d planned on.

Breaking apart, they share breath for a sparse few seconds before leaning in with mutual eagerness, a little less sloppy this time, kissing until Wade has to stop to chuckle, pushing away to put some distance between them.

There’s a brief, comfortable silence, and then, shockingly, it’s broken by Nate.

"When I said you looked good the other day –" A moment’s hesitation, followed by a pained look, a low growling noise of discomfort, as he squints at the wall past Wade’s shoulder. "You were eating cereal, and there was milk dripping down your chin and all over the kitchen counter. You looked like a fucking idiot. What adult man eats like that? It was disgusting. But I was thinking you'd look good covered in my come."

There’s a weighty pause, followed by helpless giggling, Wade moving to lean into Nate's lap. "Are you seriously... fucking thinking about two days ago... when I was gettin' my Lucky Charms on? And getting hard over my milk face?"

"Don't laugh at me. My arms feel weird." Nate huffs, indignant. He leans into Wade's weight, and puts an arm around his shoulder. "I didn't get hard. I thought about it later, though, while I was taking a shower. Listen to yourself eat some time. You make noises that are – abhorrent."

"You think about me in the shower? Oo, more about that, please, Tingly Arms."

"They feel heavy. Is that normal? I can't believe you do this for fun." A heavy, dark sigh. "Shouldn't have even mentioned the shower. You're not gonna let that go."

"Its normal, it's fine." Wade promises, pressing a little kiss to Nate's jaw, giggling in his ear "And no I am not, I want details. Tell me all your nasty watery fantasies."

Offering a low grunt, he tilts his jaw into Wade's kisses and rubs his fingers against Wade's shoulder. "Christ. They're not watery fantasies. I don't know where you even get this shit. I just think about you on your knees. You've got a nice mouth when you're not running it 24/7. It'd look nicer stretched around my cock."

More giggling, this time complete with a little snort. "God you're easy. Cock is such a great word." His hand slips down Nate's chest, wandering south. "Cock, cock, cock. So izzat all you want, huh? Me on my knees?"

"Of course not. I want you as many ways as I can get you." A short pause and then, almost teasingly, "You think saying cock over and over again is gonna get you some?"

"I dunno. Is it working?"

"I wish I could say it wasn't. Your brand of idiocy is just what does it for me now, I guess." A self-depreciating snort, but his smile when he looks at Wade is fond. "You'd look good on your knees, sweetheart, but you'd look better on your back with your ankles behind your ears."

"Ooh, I think I'm just bendy enough for that to work." His hand comes to rest over Nate's groin, giving a little rub down through his pants. He chuckles and nips at Nate's earlobe. "Wanna take me to bed and test it out?"

Again, Nate doesn’t bother with words, but words, who needs ‘em when he’s got a man who can scoop him up over one (sexy, metal) shoulder and march off to the bedroom? Don’t really need words to parse out the meaning there, especially not when he’s dumped unceremoniously on the bed and turns his head to watch Nate start stripping down.

He’s ridiculously sexy, especially seeing the way the metal bits of him meet flesh; very grotesque, very Cronenberg-esque. He says so, because there’s no filter between his brain and his mouth; “God, you look like a Cronenberg disaster met H. R. Giger, you’re so fucking hot, you fucking cyborg hottie you.”

The noise Nate makes is something like a snarl, but lighter, and Wade can see a smile fighting to exist on that scowling face. “Shut up and get undressed.”

Wade’s all too happy to oblige, sitting on the edge edge of the bed to pull his Hello Kitty shirt up and off, tossing it irreverently toward a corner and bouncing to his feet to wriggle out of his sweatpants and boxers. It pleases him in a dim way that he’s done undressing before Nate, who takes the time to stack his clothes up and set them on the dresser top. Mostly because if he’s undressed first it means he gets the time to watch Nate finish stripping.

Not that he puts any art into the act at all; he strips with eager speed hindered by a soldier’s need to keep his belongings neat. Oh well, that just gives Wade a few extra moments to enjoy the play of light on metal, the way the skin raises in ugly, rough ridges where the TO sinks out of sight. Wade loves those boarder regions, the proud flesh that’s so sensitive doesn’t have to do more brush a finger over it to make Nate twitch.

A force pushes him back against the bed as Nate steps toward the bed, and Wade lands with a giggling gasp, raising his arms against the telekinetic force to make grabby hands at his lover.

Warm, solid hands shove him up the bed, rucking the sheets, and Wade lets himself be shoved back, grinning as his ankles are seized and he’s shoved wide open with a force as Nate climbs into the bed, pushing Wade’s legs toward his shoulders. Wade whines, something in his hip creaks with the strain, but it doesn’t really hurt so he doesn’t complain, and suddenly his feet are really right there on either side of his head.

“Hold these.” Nate grunts, waiting long enough for Wade to take hold of his own legs, keeping them locked just so, before leaning away, grabbing the KY off the bedside table. The bottle says DURATION on it, but Wade’s pretty sure they just refilled the old bottle with something else, some ultra slick future lube Nate had had lying around.

Two fingers bully their way into him without much preemption, and Wade moans, loud, before laughing. That’s such a Nate thing to do, take him off guard that way, and for some reason it’s hilarious right now; Wade is lost in breathless, wavering laughter as Nate gets him all slippery and ready. He’s babbling happy praise and come-ons long before Nate gets bored of fingering him, but his arms are locked around his legs and so he can’t do much to physically egg him on.

It’s obvious his pleas for mercy are to be ignored.

An hour later (or at least five minutes; the alarm clock isn’t visible from this angle and time feels kind of screwy right now) Nate seems to remember that he could be fucking Wade with something much more interesting than his fingers. He pulls those shiny TO fingers out of him, making Wade whine, And wipes his hand off on the sheets before slicking himself up, and moving to align their hips.

“C’mon, c’mcon, c’mon,” Wade moans, arching his back to try and bring them together. “I’m being super flexible here.”

“Can’t stop thinking about how your dumbass doesn’t know how lungs work,” Nate growls, inching inside, smile quirking his lips. “I mean seriously, you knew that was bullshit, right?”

Biting his lip, Wade shook his head, laughter bubbling in his chest again. “Totally bought into it.”

They both laugh then, Wade gasping and loud and full throated, Nate softer, trying to hold it back. Nate never laughs much to begin with, so Wade counts this as a victory, letting his legs fall over those broad shoulders so he can take Nate’s face in his hands as a rhythm is established and try to pull him in.

When he curls over Wade to try and kiss him, Nate’s cock slips out with a loud, obscene sound, and that sets both of them off for real, even as Nate realigns and pushes back in; he finds he can’t kiss Wade for both of their laughter. Wade even tries to real it in, clutching at the back of Nate’s neck to keep him close, nuzzling against his mouth, nose, cheek, mouthing him but not managing to hold his laughter back long enough to get a real kiss in.

In the end, Nate rests his forehead against Wade’s, both of their helpless laughter wending beautifully into moans and little bits of praise. Nate has no trouble holding himself balanced over Wade, sparing a thread of thought to reach out telekinetically between them, jerking Wade off.

“Oh, you cheater,” Wade moans, grinding back on his cock and gasping, giggling, at the sensation of being toughed without any physical hands laid on him. “God, you know how to make a guy feel special.”

“Complaining?”

Wade shakes his head in a vigorous no, before gawping, gasping, and coming hard between them. The way he tightens around Nate in his orgasm, combined with the way those pale eyes roll and those fingers scrabble against his back; it all works together to drive Nate right over the edge too, grinding himself in as deep as he can get before coming.

A few minutes later, after he’s pulled out and flopped onto his back beside Wade, Wade rolls over to snuggle up on Nate, utterly uncaring of the sweat and come that slicks them both.

“Still wanna shotgun you.”

Chuckling, Nate shoves him away, rolling them over so Wade’s pinned again, kissing him. “You’re a fucking dipshit.”

“But you love me anyway, huh?” Wade slinks his arms around Nate’s shoulders, using the leverage o pull himself up for another kiss. And Nate might not have answered, not in words, but who needed words when there were kisses like these?


End file.
